


The Steps

by CrystalRebellion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cayak, Coran/Dayak - Freeform, Diplomacy, F/M, Fluff, background lotura, coalition ball, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalRebellion/pseuds/CrystalRebellion
Summary: While guarding their charges at a coalition event, Coran and Dayak exchange conversation as well as their first introduction into the complicated world that comes with peace.   (Coran x Dayak) (Cayak)  (Fluff)





	The Steps

Coran’s eyes roved around the room.

He exhaled.

Formal events brought mixed emotions.  The diplomatic dance of details was often precarious and wrought with missteps that could end in intercultural disasters – but it also brought with it a nostalgia of the times long lost.

The doors to the castle hadn’t been opened to the public since Arus and it had been over ten millennia since a proper diplomatic event had been hosted.  While always stressful in the necessity for indefinite tact, it _did_ feel good to feel at home after so long.

It was surreal, he admitted to himself, to see so many Galra mingling with other species from across the stars.

_Alfor would be proud,_ he thought, smiling as Allura stood in the center of a pocket of attention, greeting the leaders with a serenity and grace that only she could wield.

While the ship remained docked near the Galra Headquarters and the Emperor had been more than generous with offering space to host the event, he had also understood that it was more than practicality at stake.

This was a reclaiming of a lost tradition for Altea – to once more be the nexus of intersecting culture.  It would have been just as easy – if not more so – to host the gala within the much larger superstructure, but it _meant_ something for it to be within the castleship walls instead.  Upon _Altean_ floors.  Within _Altean_ technology.  Surrounded by –

“Seneschal.”

Coran turned and looked politely over his shoulder as his strange, striking new companion joined his side.

“Dayak,” he nodded his head in reverence, his hands remaining folded before him politely.

“Quite the gathering,” she complimented.

“It swells my pride to see this place filled with people again.  It’s been far, far too long since these walls have welcomed such a diverse group of people,” he acknowledged with a nod.

The Altean turned his attention fully on the woman beside him and he blinked, startled.  Dayak stood before him, dressed not in her usual, nondescript Galran uniform, but rather in a similar but striking black gown.  Just as chaste and modest, though it lacked the war ornaments and plate armor of her daywear.

“You’re staring,” she said flatly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Coran shook his head once, snapping out of the awkward moment with minimal grace as he floundered.

“Ah, I just – you’re, different… I meant – you look nice,” he muttered in an exhale, surrendering the fight to salvage his dignity.

Dayak regarded his bowed head for a moment, her hands laced dangerously across her torso.  Gently, the touch of her hands drew his eyes back to hers.

“You clean up nicely yourself, Seneschal,” she responded, returning her eyes to the crowd growing around the Altean princess before she saw Coran’s shocked expression.  He coughed and cleared his throat, following her gaze as he struggled to regain a sense of decorum.

“I… ah, I haven’t seen Lotor yet – is he… coming?”  He hazarded a glance her way out of the corner of his eye.  She nodded once, her eyes riveted on the princess.

“I can’t imagine that he would miss this.”

The triumphant look on the matron’s face didn’t slip past Coran as she studied the Altean woman, taking in her billowing, sequined gown, the magenta satin fluttering around her ankles as she turned to greet another coalition member.

One of the dignitaries extended a hand toward the princess and she blushed demurely and shook her head politely at something he said.

The man seemed persistent, taking a step closer to the princess.  Once more, through her tense smile, she shook her head and folded her hands tightly in front of her.

“Oh no,” Coran murmured, realizing what was happening.

“The young man wants a dance,” Dayak observed.

“She’ll have to agree if he asks her a third time.  A third denial would be a slight upon his people, and she knows this,” he said, his frown deepening.  “She needs an excuse out of it,” he added as he began making his way toward his charge, determined to extract her from what could be a politically compromising situation.

“Seneschal,” Dayak caught Coran by the arm, stilling the Altean in his tracks.    He glanced to her, startled by the sudden touch.

“I need to go to her; he shouldn’t be so pushy, especially given that for his race, a dance will initiate a courtship.  He-”

“The situation is under control,” she murmured, nodding as the Emperor strode confidently into the room, his arms folded formally behind his back as he headed directly toward the princess.

Couples dancing stopped to stare at the man, draped in elegant black and gold formalwear.

“He makes armor look like a luxury,” Coran murmured, impressed by how he had gold protective plates tailored into his very ensemble.

“It’s been millennia since he has ever been in public without some form of a shield,” Dayak observed.  “Once you survive so many assassination attempts, you tend to assume the worst from everyone around you.”

Coran cast a look to Dayak, surprised by the openness she breathed about the mysterious Galtean ruler.

Lotor stopped near the overt dignitary and glanced down at the man, dwarfing him with his size.  He said nothing, only stared coolly until the man bowed humbly and excused himself.

Cobalt eyes flashed to Allura and she flushed her relief at him, a warm smile lighting up her features.

The other members of the coalition paid respects to both Allura and Lotor, either as a bow, curtsey or other customary formal gesture before departing, leaving her standing alone with the Emperor.

Coran watched with fascination as Lotor nodded once and turned to leave her to her mingling when her hand shot out and touched his arm, stilling his retreat.  As he glanced back to her, the princess offered her hand.  Lotor stared a moment before nodding once and lead her into the throng of dancing couples.

“Well, it seems you weren’t wrong,” Coran complimented her.  “Lotor seems to have swept in at the right moment.”

“He has developed a knack for doing that, as well,” she explained.

“So true,” he mused, reflecting on his short history with the Galtean. 

His heart flared with warmth as Allura’s eyes lit up when Lotor took her into his arms.

“She looks happy,” Dayak commented.

“It’s been a very, _very_ long time since she has experienced anything but war and pain.  This is… a much needed reprieve for her,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving his charge as Lotor twirled her deftly and delicately across the floor.  “He really _does_ know how to dance.”

“Do you doubt me?”  Dayak’s stern reproach stunned Coran and he glanced back to the governess’s dangerous look.

“Not at all!”  He nearly choked on his words, watching as her gaze softened.  He blinked, glancing down as he felt the pressure on his arm abate.

Dayak drew her hand back to her body, as if surprised she had let it linger on him for so long.

“Well.  We could… always follow their lead,” he hedged gently.

“What are you on about, Seneschal?”

Coran only offered her his hand in response.

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be appropriate.  It’s all the young ones out there right now,” she said, nodding primly, crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

“So?  If you taught him to dance, I’m certain you could teach me a thing or to,” Coran encouraged.

Dayak looked at him with surprise.

“…I’m a bit past my prime.  It’s not… I don’t really _dance_ ,” she finally articulated, struggling to retain her composure at the offer.

“For the record, a third declination in Altean culture just means you’d rather not.  A third offer only means we want to be sure you’re not denying yourself something that you actually desire.”  He watched her intently, a soft smile on his lips as the Galra struggled to keep her face straight.

“You can’t possibly want to dance with me,” she accused softly, a frown marring her features.

“I do,” Coran affirmed gently, taking a step closer to her.  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Dayak stiffened slightly before casting her eyes out to the waltzing royal couple.

“I suppose we _have_ harkened an era of breaking old traditions,” she murmured before glancing back to the advisor and placed her hand in his offered palm.

Coran gently curled his fingers around her palm and deftly led the woman into the circuit of dancers.  She followed behind him, unusually quiet as he turned to face her.

A moment of hesitation flashed between them before Coran put his hand on her hip and guided her palm to his shoulder.

“They are watching us, Seneschal,” she murmured quietly.

“What’s the harm in that?”  He chuckled nervously as he began the dance steps, nearly stumbling at first.  Dayak was quick to take the lead and Coran followed comfortably, falling into step behind her.

“It is… unprecedented that a governess even be in attendance at a function like this,” she confided, her eyes flashing over the ranks of Galra and other citizens in the room.  “Much less partake in the festivities.”

The Altean blinked in surprise, growing more comfortable as he settled into the familiar choreography.

“So you’ve never danced at a formal event?”

“Not like this, no,” she replied.  “As much as I approve of traditions and rituals… breaking them can feel a bit… invigorating.”  She flashed him another fanged grin without warning.

Coran laughed genuinely in response.

* * *

“Do you suppose they’re sufficient distracted?”

Allura’s gaze glanced up to Lotor’s when he didn’t reply right away.  His sapphire eyes stayed rooted firmly on their targets, his jaw tight.

“Hard to say, I’m afraid,” he admitted.   “They’re both quite persistent.”

Allura’s back rested against the castle wall, tucked into an alcove with his frame sheltering her as he studied his governess in the distance, waltzing with the Altean advisor.

The full bloom of her ball gown swelled around both her and his ankles as he crowded into her.  Her palms rested delicately on the forearms bracing either side of her.

Allura tilted her head up as Lotor’s eyes moved to hers, the rebellious tendril of hair sweeping between them, drawing a soft laugh from her lips as her cheeks darkened.

The princess realized just precisely how close she was to the young Emperor, his frame wrapped around her as she hid in the recess.

“They’ll come looking for us, you know,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling up at him shyly.

“They’ve been watching us since this gala began,” he admitted with an exhale.  “But… that’s Dayak for you.”

“I never expected her to connect so well with Coran,” she mused, leaning away from the wall to peer over his arm at the unlikely couple.  She blushed as her chest brushed against him and the startled rumble from his throat caught them both by surprise.

“Perhaps… we could find a quieter place?”  His eyes never left hers as she leaned back against the wall, her heart skipping in her chest.  She nodded once to the Galtean.

“This way,” she encouraged, slipping from his arms and lacing her fingers between his.

He willingly obliged her as she ducked down around him, courting the perimeter of the bustling hall as she sought a more secluded area in the castle she knew so well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the Lotura Discord for indulging me in my crackship!


End file.
